


My Type

by brucexselina



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Is this how you tag?, The 100 (TV) Season 1, day trip 2.0 kinda, i aint never done this before so, i've seen people tag like that so i will too, if y'all hate this story comment below!, oh and!, uh lets see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27878642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucexselina/pseuds/brucexselina
Summary: Clarke, Bellamy, and a nuisance take a stroll through the woods.Season 1 compliant, like a week after Unity Day, but the Exodus ship didn't crash (they can all be up on the Ark, losing oxygen or whatever it is they're doing)
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	My Type

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I've never done this before, so let's see how it goes. If you absolutely hate this, comment below! Tell me why you think it's garbage. In all seriousness though, if you actually read this thank you so much. This is new to me, and I kinda want to write more stories in the future? We'll see. Enjoy (or don't)

Clarke is absolutely miserable. 

She, Bellamy, and Miles have been hiking through Earth’s beautiful, yet dense and never-ending, forest for what feels like an eternity. Clarke needs to find a specific plant from Lincoln’s book in order to stop an outbreak back at camp. She didn’t really understand the details on how the plant would help, since she was only a medical trainee, not a real doctor, back on the Ark. She was getting desperate, though, and was willing to do whatever she could to help the kids, her people. 

At first, Clarke wanted to be completely alone. She thought this special plant shouldn’t be that far from camp, and was capable of taking care of herself. Her desire for independence came to a crashing halt when Miles found her packing her gear. 

“Clarke! Hey! What are you doing?” Miles practically screams way too excitedly in Clarke’s right eardrum. 

“Just packing my stuff in order to go off and try to save you all.” Clarke replies, trying to muster the same amount of enthusiasm Miles has. She was aiming for a joke, yet the look on Miles’s face tells her otherwise. Just as quickly as his face fell, though, it transforms into a blinding smile.

“Let me go with you! I’m great with a gun, and we can chat while walking.” Clarke immediately thinks of how he always misses the target by a long shot during Bellamy’s training sessions, and how she really doesn’t feel like talking to anyone right now, let alone Miles. 

“Miles, I’m not sure if that’s the best idea-“ “No come on Clarke, it’ll be great!” Fuck. She really wants to go alone just to have some peace and quiet for once since she landed on this damn planet, but she’s also too tired to argue.

“Okay fine, but let’s try to keep the small talk to a minimum.” Clarke shoulders her pack, gestures for Miles to follow her lead, and starts walking to the gate. 

Just as she is about to tell Miller to open the gate, she hears from behind her, “Going for a stroll? Didn’t realize we can go for walks whenever we please, especially considering the fact that more than half of the camp is two seconds away from kicking the bucket.” 

That voice. That fucking voice that keeps her up at night, whether from desire or hatred, she isn’t quite sure. Ever since Unity Day, things have been different. They still argue with one another, but there is less bite to it. When she looks at him now, she can remember how he looked in the firelight, smiling at her and saying she deserved a drink, and doesn’t feel much animosity towards him. 

She’s not remembering him in the firelight right now, though. Miles has already held her up long enough, she’ll be damned if Bellamy holds her up too. 

She quickly turns on her feet, coming face to face with Bellamy. He looks smug. 

“Aren’t you funny? I’m actually going to try to find a way to save all of our asses, so if you’ll excuse me.” She moves to pivot away from him, but feels a tug on her wrist, spinning her right back around. 

“With who?” He says, the smug look still on his face, making a show of looking around the camp. He looks back down at her and says, “Because I can see that you’re not carrying a gun, and rules are rules.”

As she reclaims her wrist, she hears from behind her, “I’m actually going with her, and huh…I have a gun.” Miles says sheepishly, as if he wasn’t practically begging to go with her two minutes ago. 

Clarke looks to Bellamy, who looks unimpressed, with raised eyebrows, mouthing “rules are rules," and turns to finally leave this godforsaken camp.

“Alright, let’s go.” She hears Bellamy’s deep, melodious voice say from behind her.

She spins around, facing him with an incredulous expression on her face.

“No way! Miles has a gun, we’ll be fine.”

Bellamy looks at Miles, still standing behind her, and then looks at Clarke again. “You and I both know that just because Miles has a gun doesn’t mean he knows how to use it properly.” He says with a knowing look on his face. 

Clarke knows he’s right. Of course he’s right, because he always has to be right about everything. If she wasn’t in a mood before, she certainly is in one now.

Still looking at Bellamy, she huffs, quickly murmurs “fine” and then moves to finally, once and for all, walk out of camp. 

That was three hours ago.

The search for the plant from Lincoln’s book is a lot more difficult than Clarke originally thought. She’s been scouring for it everywhere, yet continuously comes up short. Bellamy, while still keeping an eye out for the plant once Clarke showed him what it looks like a minute into their journey, has been on high alert for grounders. Since the failed meeting with Anya, they have all been anxiously awaiting retaliation. 

Then there’s Miles. He clearly ignored Clarke’s request of keeping the small talk to a minimum because he has been talking nonstop since the second they stepped foot out of camp. About an hour and a half in, Bellamy started to walk ahead of them in order to create some distance after Miles finished a twenty minute explanation on what exactly a reuben sandwich is. Food variety on the Ark was limited, but apparently when Miles was ten he watched a cooking show after somehow illegally downloading it on his tablet and has never forgotten about the supposed intricacies of a reuben sandwich since. 

Clarke was surprised it was the reuben sandwich explanation that was the last straw for Bellamy, considering the fact the story before was about how he got stuck in the toilet when he was four. 

Her bad mood has only increased in severity after not finding the plant and having to listen to Miles ramble nonstop. 

“Anyway, I guess it didn’t really matter that she wasn’t into me because I got locked up a week later.” Currently, he’s talking about a girl he liked on the Ark. He made some grand proclamation of love towards her, and it backfired extremely. Apparently in Miles’s mind, being locked up is better than having to face rejection. 

“Sounds rough.” Clarke mutters, eyes scanning the ground for the plant. 

“Guess we can’t all be good with the ladies.” Miles laughs, gesturing towards Bellamy, who is about ten feet ahead of them at this point. 

Clarke looks up towards Bellamy to see if he’s heard. He makes no signs of showing he’s heard Miles’s comment, though.

Miles continues, “Like seriously, how does he do it? We got down here, and I swear by the third night fifteen girls were already fighting over him.”

Clarke looks at Miles to see that he has a dream-like expression on his face, as if Bellamy’s prowess is something to be worshipped. She considers Miles’s words, and while it may not actually be fifteen girls, Bellamy has seemed to attract a lot of attention. She feels an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach. She quickly tries to smother that feeling. She disliked him up until Unity Day, only tolerating him after their day trip to the supply depot, so she has no right to feel any sort of way towards Bellamy, or his sexual endeavors. Right? 

She shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She tunes back into Miles, only catching on, “-gotta be like all the girls in camp by this point.”

“What’s gotta be like all the girls in camp by this point?” Clarke asks.

Miles turns to her, albeit a little sheepishly, and says, “You know, Bellamy’s probably hooked up with all the girls in camp by this point.”

Clarke looks up towards Bellamy once again, looking for any indication of him listening, but finds none.

She turns back to Miles while rolling her eyes and states, “Considering the fact that there are a lot of children and his sister in camp, I’m gonna have to say that’s not true.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Miles huffs. Then, he says matter-of-factly, “I bet I could name all the girls he’s hooked up with. Roma, Bree, you-“

“Me?” Clarke exclaims incredulously. She’s so taken aback by his statement that she doesn’t even look up to see if Bellamy’s heard. If she would have, she would have seen Bellamy’s shoulders tense, his fingers tightening on his gun. 

Miles suddenly looks very alarmed, eyes darting everywhere but Clarke’s. “Well, uh- I just thought- well not just me, like everyone- wait no! Not everyone! Like a few people-“

“Miles, stop.” Clarke states. He looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, and while his words alarmed her, she doesn’t want him to have a breakdown over it. 

Miles finally looks Clarke in the eyes, so she continues, “Bellamy and I haven’t um…hooked up, or anything.”

“Sorry, some of us just thought….”

“It’s fine, but you guys shouldn’t hold out on us having sex. I know I’m not his type.” She tries to keep her tone light, only semi-succeeding when Miles gives her a grimace. 

She hears a strangled sort of noise up head, and looks up. She scans her surroundings, but nothing seems amiss, except Bellamy seems to be slightly more alert than he was a little while ago. Whatever, she thinks, looking away. 

Maybe if something were wrong she could stop thinking about how her statement from a second ago is true. She isn’t his type. Bellamy practically fucks anything that moves, and yet has shown absolutely no interest in her. Maybe he was slightly interested in her during Unity Day, or maybe he was just bored. Her bad mood has now transformed into something else. Sadness. Logically, she shouldn’t be feeling this way at all. Her feelings towards him are anything but uncomplicated. She can’t figure out if she wants to kiss him or strangle him half the time, though she supposes that doesn’t really matter with her one-sided feelings. 

Clarke almost misses it due to her jumbled thoughts, but when she looks off to her left she sees it. The plant. The fucking plant! 

She squeals, actually squeals, and runs the short distance to the plant. 

She doesn’t hear Bellamy and Miles come over due to her euphoria, but feels a presence crouch down next to her. 

“‘Bout damn time, Princess.” Bellamy says jokingly, looking at her from his crouched position on her right side. 

She glances over to give him a quick smile, though stops when she looks into his eyes. He look happy, but there’s something else there. Something below the surface, something deeper than just happiness. Before she can figure out exactly what it is, he looks back down at the plant, mutters a “let’s get a move on,” and walks away. 

-

Clarke unceremoniously flops down on a log near the fire, slightly angling her body away from it as much as she can while still siting due to her flushed skin. She’s been in the dropship for hours since her ragtag team got back from their forest expedition trying to cure everyone. She was finally successful, everyone looking much less closer to death than they were this morning. 

She is about to get up in order to find a cooler place to sit, when she feels someone sit next to her. 

“You did good today.” Bellamy’s gruff voice states on her left. 

She looks up at him, admiring the strong angle of his jaw, the constellation of freckles on his face.

“Thanks.” Clarke replies in an even tone, looking back into the fire. 

When he doesn’t say anything else for a couple of minutes, Clarke feels her temper rising. Why sit down next to her if he has nothing to say? She’s trying to turn her sadness over her conversation with Miles earlier in the day to anger. Anger is something she can deal with. Sadness, on the other hand, is not. Sadness means she actually cares. 

She’s about to ask him what he wants when she hears in an embarrassed, yet gentle, tone, “What you said earlier, that’s uh…its not true.” 

Her head snaps up to look at him, but Bellamy is staring determinedly into the fire. Of course her mind immediately thinks that he’s referring to her not being his type, but maybe he’s talking about something else. Maybe he’s talking about how a reuben sandwich is just a reuben sandwich, not the godsend Miles seems to think it is.

To be safe, Clarke asks, “What’s not true?” while still gazing at Bellamy, who is still looking into the fire (she can’t tell if the slight redness on his cheeks is due to his proximity to the fire or embarrassment). 

He huffs, glances at the darkened sky above them, looks back into the fire, then finally looks at Clarke. 

“About the you not being my type thing.” He says in a rushed breath, seeming to struggle with keeping eye contact. He looks like he’d rather be saying anything else, which confuses her because he chose to sit down and confess whatever the hell he’s confessing right now. 

Still trying to maintain eye contact with Bellamy’s troubled gaze, she tries for an even-tone when she says, “Bellamy, you don’t have to feel guilty- or whatever- over not being into me. Miles was just being Miles, so don’t worry about it.”

This is even worse. She can deal with Bellamy not being into her, but Bellamy feeling guilty that he would rather be interested in anyone other than her is not. Is she that pathetic he actually feels sorry for her? Feeling the need to tell her that her statement from earlier was “not true” to try and spare her feelings? 

She looks away from Bellamy’s confused eyes and gets up. She’d rather not hear him try to explain how she is “cute in a quirky kind of way.” She makes it halfway across camp before she hears harried footsteps behind her.

“Clarke, wait. Slow down.” Bellamy says. Why can’t he understand that she doesn’t want to talk to him right now? She lifts up the flap of her tent and heavily sits down on the edge of her bed. Just as she is about to take a deep breath, the flap of her tent lifts again.

The lantern in her tent flashes on who it is, though she suspects she would be able to recognize his silhouette in pitch black. 

Bellamy drops the flap of her tent behind him and stands with his arms crossed. “You done running away yet?” He asks. The gentle timbre of his voice is gone now, replaced with annoyance. 

“I’m not running away, Bellamy. I walked back to my tent after an exhausting day. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She says while gesturing for him to leave, then putting her head in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees. 

He does the exact opposite of her request. He takes a few steps forward, stopping right in front of her. 

“Do you usually run away when a guy tells you he’s into you? Or am I receiving a special royal treatment?” 

Clarke lifts her head from her hands and looks up at him. His change in emotions today is practically giving her whiplash. The annoyance is completely gone. Now, he looks between a mixture of embarrassed and fond.

She’s at a loss for words. Just earlier today, she was convinced he wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole, and now he’s telling her it’s the complete opposite? If he’s felt this way, why hasn’t he done anything about it before? So, instead of answering, she continues to look up at him. 

He finds something in her expression and kneels down in front of her.

“Miles doesn’t exactly have an indoor voice, so I heard everything.” He puts his hands on her knees and jostles them a bit. “You were right in saying I haven’t slept with every girl in camp.” He says, trying to smile through his bashfulness. Taking his hands away from her knees, he says in a more serious voice, “But, you were wrong in saying you’re not my type.” With that, he leans back on his knees, seeming to say everything it is he wanted to say, and waits for a response. 

Clarke can’t help it when her voice has an annoyed edge to it. “You have an odd way of showing it.”

Bellamy sighs while running his hands through his hair, making it messier than it was before, before looking at her again. 

“It’s different because- because you….” He says while gesturing with his hands, as if making wild hand expressions will help his case. “It’s different because you matter.” He finishes, looking directly in her eyes. 

“What?” Her voice comes out meekly. She wants to be strong. She wants to show him that hearing these words doesn't change anything. But that’s not true. His words, combined with this whole day, cause tears to spring to her eyes.

“Woah, hey, what’s all this?” He says gently, eyes flickering between hers. He raises his hands, looking like he wants to cup her face, but changes his mind and brings them back down to his sides. 

“You can’t mean that.” She says, tears still lining her eyes.

“Why not?”

“Because you just can’t.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says softly. He puts his hands back on her knees. “Is this okay?” He asks while looking down at his hands, then back up into her eyes.

“Yes.” She answers, just as softly. 

“I- I didn’t think it mattered how I felt.” He says, absentmindedly rubbing small circles with his thumbs on her knees. “I’m still not quite sure how I feel yet, but I do know that I like you.” He states determinedly. 

“Oh.” She says.

“Yeah,” He laughs softly, “Oh.” 

Before she loses her nerve, she quickly leans in and kisses him on the mouth. Just as quickly as she leaned in, she pulls back, looking at his face. 

He looks surprised. Damn it, she thinks. Things have just started going in her favor and she’s already ruined everything-

Bellamy’s surprised look quickly transforms into one of delight. He moves his hands from her knees to cup her face and leans back in, gently brushing his mouth against hers. They stay like that for a minute, nothing too intense, just savoring the feeling of one another. 

He pulls back, but doesn’t go too far. “I take it that I’m your type too?” He asks with a boyish grin plastered on his face. 

Instead of replying, she laughs and says, “Shut up and kiss me.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

**Author's Note:**

> AH IT'S DONE. Did we all hate it? I know I sure did!


End file.
